


as gentle as feathers

by sxldato



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Lucifer Not Being an Asshole, M/M, One Word Prompt Meme, Snow, Soul Bond, Vessel Sam, Winter, guys i did it i wrote fluff be proud of me, it's weird and gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 20:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5019583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sxldato/pseuds/sxldato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Something strange is in the air." </p><p>Or: Cas likes watching the bees. Lucifer likes watching the snow fall. </p><p>(prompt fill: sam/lucifer + snow)</p>
            </blockquote>





	as gentle as feathers

**Author's Note:**

> this was too long to post on instagram, and in conclusion, here we are  
> i actually???? really like how this turned out. which is weird but w/e  
> this is also pretty much my first moderately fluffy fic _ever_ and i've been writing for five years so that's. that's something new and exciting  
>  since season 11 started i've just been oozing sam feelings from every orifice, and it really wouldn't be that much of a hardship since sam feelings are my life force and i'm also getting so much writing out of it??? but all my friends (of which there are like four) are constantly shitting on everything i love so like,,, there's that lmao  
> beta'd, and the title is from 'Snow' by Sleeping at Last

Sam laughs at first because Lucifer burns cold, spreads frost over glass with his fingertips, radiates body heat at the same rate as a fresh corpse. It's an easy assumption to make, one he hasn't even realized he's made until Lucifer contradicts it. 

"Something strange is in the air." Lucifer speaks with Sam's voice, moves with his body, but Sam is still there, too. Crammed in his own brain. He's just taken shotgun for a while. And in a dissociative, mentally jarring sort of way, it's entertaining to watch the devil maneuver through life. They are one body, they see the same and feel the same, but on the subatomic, soul-dividing level, they hold their own. They hold conversations. 

"I guess it's a little early for snow, but I wouldn't be worried about it." 

Lucifer draws Sam's brows together, furrowed in confusion. "I've never experienced snow before." 

And this is when Sam laughs, ignoring the disconcertion that comes with his features being unresponsive, and Lucifer's frown deepens.

"How's that possible? I mean, you must have--"

"Seen the change of the world's seasons while I was imprisoned for thousands of years? Unfortunately, Sam, the Cage has no windows." 

Sam falls quiet after that, only watches Lucifer move them to the motel door and open it a fraction of an inch. The latch is broken, breaching any false sense of security from this new thing. This unease. 

He can feel Lucifer hesitating, can see the conflict churning in the part of his mind that is no longer his. He's a bystander, really. And he's not sure what he can do. 

"It doesn't hurt," he says, and it sounds even more unhelpful spoken aloud. Or thought aloud. He's not  _speaking_ , he's just... communicating with Lucifer, creating a language out of the vibrations of their souls ("which isn't gay at all," Dean had said, "no, no,  _very_ heterosexual, good job, Sammy")-- one blackened and charred and the other golden and radiant, and the trouble lies with their inability to identify whose is which anymore. 

Bottom line: Sam isn't aiding the situation. 

It hasn't been coming down long, but the flakes are thick and hold their shape when they meet the ground, and there's a light dusting of it covering the walkway. The concrete barely shows, and the haphazardly trimmed grass on either side peeks out, thin green fingers sprouting through the dirt and waving.

"You're going to make steam come out of my ears if you keep thinking that hard," Sam tells the devil. "It's just snow. It's cold and wet and causes obscene amounts of traffic. There's nothing that special about it."

"None of them are the same." Lucifer focuses intently on the grey sky and the icy, intricate stars that fall in total silence. "How incredible. How... how oddly human." 

"You can step out, if you want," Sam says. "Just put on shoes before you do. I don't trust you not to give me frostbite by accident." 

Lucifer, Sam has realized, has a proclivity for layering up as much as possible, even beyond the scope of the Winchesters. Sam thinks it's less for obtaining warmth (or in this case, keeping _Sam's_ body warm and therefore healthy) and more because Lucifer likes Sam's things. For an all-powerful archangel, Lucifer can be something of a child, especially in matters concerning Sam. He's possessive and compulsive, if asking to use Sam's body as a vessel for an indefinite length of time isn't enough evidence. 

So when they step out-- when Lucifer steps out and Sam hitches along for the ride-- Lucifer is bundled in Sam's coat, jacket, and the worn Stanford hoodie that Sam hadn't even remembered he still owned. 

"Pull the hood out over the coat," Sam suggests, and lets Lucifer fumble a bit before asking for the reigns and doing it himself. It's a trust thing, mostly; Lucifer doesn't throw them both into immediate moral peril, and Sam doesn't eject Lucifer from his body when given back the controls for a minute or two. It's a good system-- bizarre and quite specific to their situation, but it's good. 

The cold nips at Sam's face, grazes his cheekbones and nose, but Lucifer savors the feeling. It's sharp and vivid, and he hasn't had anything this real in millennia. 

"Is this what being alive feels like?"

"I didn't know the devil could wax poetic." 

The boots Lucifer had put on leave imprints in the snow as he takes a few more steps, coming out from under the awning and letting the flakes begin to collect on Sam's head and shoulders. 

"Is it too cold? We can go back inside if this is uncomfortable."

"I'm okay," Sam promises.

Lucifer sinks to his haunches. In free fall, the snow can be deciphered as individual pieces, but it all blends together when it meets the ground. It reflects the sun, blurred behind the clouds. It shimmers. 

"You've never seen Michael's wings," Lucifer murmurs, and in Sam's voice it comes out hoarse and fractured. "But they look like this. They catch the light." 

Sam can't respond. He hates Michael, hates what he put Dean through, hates his cruelty that gets brushed off just because he's supposed to be one of the good ones. Lucifer is kinder and gentler than Michael had ever been, which is counterintuitive-- mainly because _he'd_ been the one who brought the apocalypse in tow when he crawled out of the Cage. But a lot of things tend to be counterintuitive in this line of work. 

"I'm sorry," is all he can say without lying, because he  _is_ sorry. He and Lucifer caused so much hurt while they were hurting, they're both so broken, and all they ever really wanted were apologies.  _  
_

So they give them to each other. 

Lucifer tugs off one of Sam's gloves, reaches out, but there is doubt in his movements, a resistance to this new and strange thing. Like this could be it, this could be what makes him fall in love with humanity the way his brothers and sisters did, and he can't ever let that happen. 

The devil brushes over the glittering surface with Sam's fingers and holds his breath. Sam wonders if Lucifer has ever been acquainted with soft things, the delicate and peaceful parts of the world, these moments of utter tranquility. He wants to ask if Lucifer knows the words  _soft_ and  _safe_ and  _home_ , or if they'd been taken from him when he was cast out.

Sam does not ask these questions. Instead he sits in his corner of his mind, watching, waiting. It's early in the morning, early enough that no one is around to witness this, and they are both grateful. This is too oddly intimate for anyone else to be allowed to see. It's just them, a collection of shatters and frayed ends coming together to make something whole and beautiful. It's them and this snowfall, and everything around them is withering and dying, but there's a wonderful feeling of a change, of something starting over. 

"This feels good," Lucifer decides after the long stretch of silence in which he and Sam had both retreated to their corners to think. "I like this." 

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." 

If Sam could, he would take Lucifer and kiss him, but they share this body and he can't. All he can do-- or at least all he's figured out how to do--is to touch souls, to find Lucifer's and lean into the same space. Create a shower of sparks in the dark. 

But it's enough. 

"We could walk for a while," Lucifer says. He's always so careful with phrasing when it comes to doing things with Sam's body, always uses "we," always ends the sentences higher like they're questions. He asks for Sam's permission every time, no matter how simple it is. It's a deep-rooted kind of respect, one that stems from an understanding of Sam's need for autonomy, even when he's already given up his body.

"I wouldn't mind you stretching my legs, actually." 

Maybe tonight they'll split like atoms (they'll contain their nuclear explosion) and then mold together again in a tangle of limbs and labored breaths. Maybe they'll hold each other and place names to the colors in their eyes, find constellations in the scattering of birthmarks and scars on their skin. Or maybe they'll stay like this, a little cramped and a little at odds with one another, but bonded so strong that nothing from the outside can break them apart. 

They would be content either way. 

"Have I thanked you today, Sam?" 

"The moment we woke up this morning."

"Then I'll thank you again-- for all of this. For everything." 

Sam can't smile, but he burns in low tones of red and gold, radiates _soft_  and _safe_  and _home_. 

One body rises and two souls stroll down the avenue in tandem. 

**Author's Note:**

> _So we sing carols softly, as sweet as we know_   
>  _A prayer that our burdens will lift as we go_


End file.
